Say Hello To My Underpaid, Overworked Friend

In Steven Levitt’s Freakonomics –- which I heartily recommend to everyone by the way –- he includes a fascinating bit about drug gangs. Turns out that the average foot soldier in a major Chicago street gang that this economist studied made a little over $3 an hour. And they were the ones most likely to get shot by customers or other dealers, or to be asked to go kill someone for their superiors, or to be arrested by 5-0.

(“5-0.” See my street cred? It’s just dripping off me…)

So, less than minimum wage, with the threat of death or prison always present.

Why?

Apprenticeship.

They know that they have to put in the time at the bottom, and work hard, and impress everyone, and survive, if they’re ever gonna make it to the level of Tony Montana so they can shove their face into a mountain of cocaine and scream out, “The world is mine!”

Not unlike the TV and film industry, eh?

A coworker recently mentioned she was feeling a little frustrated with where she is in the business and asked how I moved up. My answer: I did some time in the television equivalent of slinging rock on a trash-strewn street corner without making enough money to buy new Nikes.

(Thankfully, my brother works for Nike so I get a wicked good discount…)

But that’s what you have to do.

The good thing is, nobody asks you to shoot anyone else, and nobody wants to shoot you. Stab you in the back, yes, but not actually kill you.

Now, I’m not saying I’m a tough guy martyr, poor me, look what I had to go through in my life. Believe me, I understand how much more difficult my life could have been –- I definitely lucked out when I was born a healthy white male in middle class America to parents who cared fully.

I’m just saying you have to suffer a little.

Well, not everyone has to. There are those who are so brilliantly gifted that they immediately rise to the top. But there’s not many of them.

Most of us have to suffer a little.

At 37, I’ve managed to make a pretty good life for my family and me –- with, of course, the support of my most excellent wife, who is quite successful in her own field. We’re happy, which is most important, but we also have the benefit of being fairly comfortable, financially, due in part to my work in the television industry. My mom says I’m a success. Not a whopper, but it’s been a good ride.

Moms are cool.

Now I find myself going back to the corner with crack in my hand –- or, as they say in Greg’s new favorite show, pandemic in my hand. But this time trying to make it in the gang called Film.

Let’s hope Paramount doesn’t send some roughnecks on a drive-by.

And by the way, don’t do cocaine, even if you make it to the top. Cocaine is bad for business.

Just ask Tony Montana.